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Let's see what I can offer here
to honor my Aussie friend, Beekeedear. He has taught this PA hick from the sticks there is more to writing than scribbling with Bics. We've got meter and form, take for instance, Rondeau with its eight syls per line in a stanza of four. Its partner in crime, the neglected Rondel with a thirteen line body and forms 'round two rhymes. Add just one more line, you've got Grade A Prime Rib. I mean, that is to say, on your plate, Rondel Prime. The form I find tricky, the dreaded love Sonnet. I can't help but to picture worn apron and bonnet. Next on my 'least list', from Persia, the Rubaiyat. I took one look and thought, "What the H*** is that?" I come to find out lines one, two and four rhyme while line number three is out boozing on job time. The Triolet's fun (if not a bit kinky) when three lines are coupled with rhyme, smoooooth and slinky. How many times has he had to say, "Boid, you Lai'd when you should have writ Terzanelle."? and I shrug and I stutter and mumble, "Ohhhhh, well.... I use poet's license to fill the brain void!" So to Beekee I'm grateful for staying my friend when rhyme fell apart and felt like a horse's hind end. And speaking of ends, did ya check out his butt? *I* did, in Virginia. Yup, I pinched my fill (and very glad that he didn't fart).
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